#softness is allowed to take up space just as much
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promise to take it ノ blade . dan heng . jing yuan
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.6k ノ fem reader — steamy . slightly rough scenarios . separately ノ blade — prone bone . doing it raw . cumming inside ノ dan heng in his dragon form, but not entirely . missionary . implied mating season lol ノ jing yuan — size kink . riding him but he’s still in control and a menace
blade ノ
while the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.
not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.
the dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. his cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.
he growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. he slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.
you squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. he doesn’t want you to move. you’re here just to take care of his needs.
the man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. you whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. he likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.
and so blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. you cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. the way you cream all over his cock — awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. he wants to cum inside you. to fill you up.
a high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. the overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.
you mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. the way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. his dear darling.
he will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.
dan heng ノ
this position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.
his hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.
“tell me if it hurts you.”
“it’s alright, really. you can… you know, continue…”
“now i’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.
with your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “i know you’re holding back. no need to, i trust you.”
“mmh,” dan heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.
his thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. the sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.
even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. he’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. the little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.
the pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit scary how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. his instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. and you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…
jing yuan ノ
he embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.
usually, you would expect jing yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.
at that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. the waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.
“no matter which part of you i touch… it’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.“ he purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. you wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “does my beloved bird feel good?”
before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. intently. he knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. you feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.
as he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. but he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.
a little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. it’s enough to throw you over the edge again.
as if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.
#—writing.#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr smut#fem reader#blade x reader#blade smut#dan heng x reader#dan heng smut#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x you
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hi Jade! Can I make a kbd request of Steve and the girls spoiling r for mothers day?🥹love u!
The spoiling starts early in the morning. Heavy, hot kisses from your husband, his thumb pressed gently to the column of your throat. “Love you,” he’d said. He’d been squeezing your side in his other hand as he said it, like he couldn’t keep the pressure in.
You shower, and Steve lays out soft loungewear for you to change into. He tends to Wren as you dress, shushing a big cry before it can start and wake her sisters, stooped over her bassinet. “Hello, honey,” he whispers sweetly, giving the bassinet a gentle rock. “Hello. Are you going to be a good girl today for your mommy? I think you are.”
You sit on the end of the bed, dressed. Mother’s Days are pretty good every year, like a second birthday, and you’re looking forward to a good long day of cuddly girls and kisses. Steve gets crazy acting like you’re the best thing since sliced bread (though he occasionally does it for no reason at all), and tonight you’re promised a hand just under your chest as he tells you how much you’ve given him.
But for now, you’ve got breakfast to make.
“Can I ask for something?”
Steve pulls Wren up into his arms with a self indulgent groan. “Oh, anything.”
“Can you make me hot chocolate?”
“It’s literally all I want. I need to make that for you right now, or I might die.” He beams and nudges your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”
You trail downstairs with him and Wren where she’s popped on his hip. She’s in the stage of life where she is still wholeheartedly just a baby, but a baby who can smile, and laugh, and communicate with you all and especially Dove. She started crawling just a few days ago, and she’s a happy, smiley girl when she isn’t annoyed at being put down.
Steve makes you hot chocolate so thick the spoon moves slowly when he puts it in. He kisses behind your ear as he places it in front of you at the table, Wren now safely transferred to a high chair beside you, where you’re feeding her mashed banana on a bendy spoon.
She smiles at you like you’re the light of her life.
“Is that nummy?” you ask.
“She’s getting chubby.”
“Yes she is,” you croon, giving her cheeks a squeeze with one hand. Her lips shine with banana spit. “She’s my chubby girl, oh, I love her. She’s growing up so fast, my sweet girl.”
Steve wraps his arms around you from behind. He doesn’t say anything, just hugs you lightly, long minutes of his touch as you feed the baby her breakfast and occasionally take a sip of your specially made drink.
“Are you saving up all the niceties for tonight?” you ask, tipping your head back to see him.
“I wrote it all down already on your card.” He speaks in a gentle tone like you had, leaning back to allow you comfortable space. “I’m just trying to get a load of you before Avery comes downstairs.”
Rousing and footsteps. “That’s sort of freaky.”
“I have a sixth sense.” He looks over your face with enough longing to feel like a touch, a finger running down your nose and over your mouth. “I’m gonna have to make more hot chocolate.”
Avery takes her time getting to the kitchen, but when she’s there, she’s quick to throw herself at your legs. “Mom,” she says, grinning at you, “it’s your day!”
“It is,” you say.
“Happy Mother’s Day!” She puckers for a big kiss.
The day is kiss after kiss after kiss. Steve has more than a card, he has a necklace for you with each of the girls initials embedded into small circles, and he has a bag of your favourite candy the size of your head, though he mentions it in private where the girls can’t hear him. Dove, once she and Beth wake up, has made you a drawing with flowers that you pin to the fridge with pride. Beth gives you a bouquet of mildly wilted flowers she and Steve had picked in the garden the night before, as well as some interesting stones, and an empty snail shell.
Avery, who you’d wondered after a few hours might have forgotten, presents you before dinner with a homemade book. She’s folded a few A4 pages and split the pages in half, topside illustration, and bottom half story. “It’s about you,” she says insistently.
The story is simple. You eating breakfast with them. You going to work (though what Avery thinks you do at work is a mystery, she draws you at a desk with a notebook and a big smile). You getting home, and kissing each of them, a speech bubble that says, “How are you, baby?” pointed from your mouth. You rub their backs, and sit down on the couch to read with them. You tuck them into bed and kiss them, and then Steve tucks you into bed and kisses you.
It’s amazingly close to the real deal, and her drawings are lovely. She’s taken so much care to write the story, you hold her for at least ten minutes after reading it.
“Thank you,” you say, your nose against her cheek. “I love being your mommy. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world.”
“I love you being my mommy.”
You squeeze her nice and tight.
#kisses before dinner universe#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x reader#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader#afab!reader#mom!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff
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My Mess (Dazai x Reader)
In which we clean blood off him after a mission
Read my other dazai oneshots here, here & here :] (peep the turtle smile)
Impulsively wrote this today after a crying session
Bye now - Mars ♡
Dazai came home bloodied and bruised. He stumbled into your apartment, seeking you out from where you were on the couch engrossed in your book. Not caring that he was messing up your couch or clothes, he flopped down onto the couch, burying his face into your stomach with mumbles of words you have a hard time figuring out.
“Osamu, what happened?” there’s an urgency in your voice as you assess your boyfriend’s state, propping him to sit up, but he’s stubborn and bury his face into your chest. “Sit up, please, for me?”, you’ve found over the years of dating Dazai that he doesn’t allow himself the freedom of emotions. He doesn’t love often, but when he loves, he loves.
Reluctantly he sat up, looking at you with a smile, a fake one. The one he gives everyone when he so effortlessly slips into his overdramatic happy persona. But you know better. Of course, you know better when your soul is a hopeless mess without his and vice versa. It’s what happens when you spend so much time with someone, when your days and laughter blend into theirs and your body trusts them so much that sleep comes naturally, even for the sleepless like him.
“What happened, ‘Samu?” you ask again, voice so gently it takes the form of a whisper, brows frowning softly as your eyes search his for an answer, or explanation, or something. Anything he’s willing to give you. Anything of truth. No pretenses.
“Had a mission today”
That you knew. He’d told you before he left for work, thinking you were willed away with slumber, but you heard the sweet melody of his voice through your dreamland. A sickeningly sweet tune luring your soul back to its body, to him. To him.
His face was exhausted, eyes darker than usual. His hair matted with dried blood and his bandages stained red from the thick crimson. Whether his or someone else, you were unsure of.
“Wanna tell me about it?”
“No”
‘Okay”
You hummed, standing up and urging him to stand too. “Let’s get you cleaned up”
You made your way to the bathroom, Osamu practically slumped over you. You guide him to sit on the stool you kept in your bathroom for shaving.
“May I?” you asked softly, your voice honeyed to not startle him. You’d seen Osamu without his bandages before though it wasn’t plenty of times. You didn’t want to rush things with him, founding yourself liking what you had with this man.
He also liked, and appreciated, your understanding nature. He loved how gentle you were with him and most of all he liked how you let him figure his shit out. Never wanting to save him, just be there for him whilst he saved himself.
He nodded, closing his eyes, and resting his head on your shoulder. His hands found themselves around your waist, if only loosely.
You gently unwrap his bandages, taking a washcloth and wetting it with some warm water, pressing it against his skin. The warmness of the water softens the stubborn dried blood. The silence overtakes you both, it’s comfortable. No need to fill the space.
You continue to wipe him down, only slipping away to run the bath for him. Filling the tub with warm water and dropping a bath bomb to dissolve in it. Stepping back over to him, ridding him of the rest of his clothes as you help him into the tub.
Osamu rested his head over the edge, whilst you wetted it, adding the shampoo and conditioner to soften the matted mess of a bird’s nest that has become his usually silky hair. You noticed he closed his eyes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, along with words of affection.
Dazai opened his eyes and looked up at you, a soft smile graced his lips. “Bella…” He spoke, “Join me”
You smiled, ridding yourself of your clothes and slipping into the waters with him. Body straddling his as you brought your hands to cup his cheeks. “Worries me when you come home like this” you confess, words shaky as you bit your lower lip to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over.
“M’okay, Bella” Osamu soothes, “See, right here, safe and sound” he whispers, drawing you closer for a kiss. A simple soft kiss, you feel him. Tongue slipping into your mouth, hands wandering down to your waist, one slipping lower to squeeze the fat of your ass.
You gasp softly against his lips, Dazai’s mouth swallowing all your sounds. “Always come back to you, baby, don’t worry that pretty little head” he rasps against your lips, swollen lips.
Dazai’s mood stabilized as his darling tended to him. The soft touches of your fingers and words caressed his soul and hardened his cock. The rawness of your worry is something he loves. Because it shows you care, genuinely. It silences his mind that tries to tell him that you don’t, that all of this isn’t real and that any day you’d up and leave him.
So when you stay and tend to him as he comes bloodied and hurt instead of running away scared and frightened and disgusted, as he expected you to be, it relieved him greatly. It affirms the unspoken truthness of your relationship. You love him. You love him. Maybe just as much he loves you, he hopes.
#dazai osamu#bsd dazai#dazai x reader#bsd x reader#dazai fluff#bsd fluff#bungo stray dogs#marswrite#osamu fluff#osamudazai
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hii!! i love all of ur writing and headcannons so much, would there be any chance you could write about strade kidnapping reader who just so happens to be a virgin? he knows about this thanks to some talking beforehand at the bar and later brings it up. he ends up taking their virginity (unwanted hehe) thanks a lot if u write this !! 🙈🙈🙈 feel free to change the consent !!
a/n: tysm! as a certified virgin™️, yes i can!!! <3 hope you enjoy :3
IN THE WOLF'S DEN
{ strade x virgin! gn! reader }
word count: 2.2k
warnings/tags: NSFW (graphic), NONCON, build-up, brief alcohol use, kidnapping, violence, knifeplay, blood and injury, licking and biting, mild corruption themes, loss of virginity, creampie.
Your fingers glide along the rim of your glass, tracing patterns in the condensation that pools beneath your touch. Amidst the cacophony of voices in the bar, his presence stands out, a solitary figure who commands your attention. He emerges from the crowd, his sharp features softened by the warm lights, and his eyes gleam with a dangerous allure, drawing you in with each step he takes. He slides onto the stool beside you, effortlessly claiming the space as his own.
"Name's Strade," he offers, his voice smooth and accented. You introduce yourself in return, feeling the weight of his gaze as you shift nervously in your seat.
"You look like you have something on your mind," he observes, taking a sip of his drink. You're taken aback by his directness, but something about him draws you in, a magnetic pull you find impossible to resist.
You swallow, nerves dancing beneath your skin as you meet his gaze. His presence is overwhelming, yet oddly comforting. "I guess so," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, "but it's nothing I'd share with a stranger."
His chuckle ripples through the air, a low sound that sets your pulse alight. "Ah, but aren't strangers the best confidants? No judgments, no preconceptions."
His words resonate within you, coaxing a nod of agreement. "I suppose you're right," you concede, turning your gaze back to him.
You begin to open up, sharing things you've never told any stranger before. You tell him that you're alone, that your family lives in a different city, that you feel the most lonely you have in your adult life. The words spill freely from your lips and he listens with an intensity that both unnerves and excites you. And then, almost as an afterthought, you confess a truth you've kept hidden for so long— the truth of your virginity.
Strade's reaction is immediate, his lips curling into a wolfish grin. "A virgin," he muses, his voice edged with amusement, "how intriguing."
A flush blooms across your cheeks, a blend of embarrassment and exhilaration at his reaction. Your fingers linger on the rim of your near-empty glass, his gaze holding you captive.
"In what way?" you ask, a small thrill pulsing through your veins.
Leaning closer, his smile widens, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "It's not every day you find someone so… untouched. It makes you unique, like a rare gem."
Your pulse quickens at his words, but before you can respond, the bartender interrupts; a temporary reprieve. You hastily order another drink, the liquid a balm for your nerves.
As the night wears on, you lose yourself in conversation, the sounds of the other patrons fading into insignificance. Only when the bar begins to empty does reality come crashing and you realize it's time to part ways.
"I should get going," you say, pushing yourself away from the bar. "I have an early morning." Before you can take another step, he's beside you, his hand grazing yours in a tantalizing caress. "Allow me to walk you to your car," he offers, his eyes twinkling with a dangerous glint.
There's part of you that hesitates, a silent warning echoing in the recesses of your mind; but the pull of his presence is undeniable, drawing you into his orbit once more.
The streets are quiet as you make your way through the night, the only sound is the soft shuffle of your footsteps on the pavement. You steal glances at him out of the corner of your eye, his silhouette a dark shadow against the moonlit sky.
As you round a corner into a dimly lit alley, the air suddenly thickens with an ominous tension. Your heart quickens its pace, a silent drumbeat of warning, and in an instant, he's upon you, pinning you against the rough surface of the alley wall. His grip is firm, almost bruising, as he leans in close, his hot breath fanning across your face.
"Don't make a sound," Strade whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. His smile, once charming and enticing, now twists into something dangerous; like a predator revelling in its prey.
Panic surges within you as you struggle against his hold, your pleas swallowed by the gaping alley. With a sickening thud, your head meets brick and stars explode behind your eyelids as darkness descends like a shroud.
You awaken to the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights, your head pounding with a dull, insistent ache. Disoriented, you blink against the harsh brightness, your surroundings slowly emerging from the haze. No longer are you in the alley; instead, you find yourself in a musty basement, the air thick with the scent of damp and decay.
Your heart lurches as you shift, feeling a cold metal pole press into your back and your arms bound tightly behind it. Panic claws at your insides, fueling a desperate struggle against the restraints.
"Ah, you're awake already?" Strade's voice cuts through the silence like a blade, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn your head to see him descending the stairs with an unsettling grace, his silhouette looming like a spectre in the dim, flickering light.
"Wha— What's going on?" you stammer, your voice trembling with fear.
He chuckles, a sound devoid of warmth, as he crouches to meet your gaze. "You don't remember? Our chat was going so well... You opened up to me about so many things,"
Dread coils in the pit of your stomach as your naivety sinks in like a lead weight. "Please, let me go," you plead, shrinking back against the cold metal pole, trying to distance yourself from him.
But he only smiles in response, seemingly unmoved by your desperation. "I wanted to get to know you on a more... intimate level," He explains, his tone disturbingly casual. "So I took you home."
Your breath catches in your throat as he moves closer, the heat of his body an unwelcome presence. With a swift motion, he withdraws a knife from his belt, the blade gleaming in the dim light.
"Please," you whimper again, tears clouding your vision. "I'll do anything, just let me go."
Strade laughs, the sound echoing in the confines of the basement. "Anything, huh?" he muses, that menacing smile still etched on his face. "Well then."
He places the knife on the floor and leans into you, his body pressing intimately against yours. He's so close you can smell him— a dreadful blend of sweat and petroleum invading your senses. Rough hands reach for the ropes binding your wrists, causing you to flinch. With deft movements, he begins to untie the knots, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that makes your stomach churn.
The ropes fall away, and you gasp in relief, only to feel his hands seize your shoulders, shoving you back against the pole. Strade retrieves his knife and kneels before you, his bulky frame illuminated by the overhead lights.
"Now," he commands, gesturing with the blade, "strip."
You swallow hard, bile rising in the back of your throat as you meet his gaze. Slowly, with trembling hands, you begin to remove your clothes, the fabric rustling loudly in the silence of the basement.
Strade watches you intently, his eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin. You strip down to your underwear, your clothes a crumpled heap at your feet. The cool air of the basement chills your skin, and you curl into yourself, attempting to shield your body from his invasive gaze. He steps closer, his free hand brushing across your cheek.
"Have you ever stripped naked for anyone before?" he asks, almost tauntingly, his face mere inches from yours. You shake your head, your voice barely a whisper. "N-No," you manage to croak out, the response hanging between you.
Strade chuckles as if amused by your innocence. "I figured as much," he sneers, "A virgin in every sense."
He watches your reaction with a sadistic delight, savouring your fear— your vulnerability, as you shrink further into yourself.
"Aww, you're trembling," he observes, his eyes raking over your quivering form. "Niedlich."
With a sudden, brutal motion, he grabs your ankles, dragging you forward until you're sprawled on the ground before him. He crawls over you, his weight pressing heavily, the knife still firmly in his grasp.
Strade brings the knife to your chest, the cold steel kissing your skin before biting in with a sharp sting. You gasp, a cry of pain escaping your lips as the red line blossoms with warm, crimson buds. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight, his thumb pressing into the wound and smearing the blood across your skin.
"So cute," he repeats, his lips curving into a predatory smile. "I could just devour you whole!"
His tongue flicks out to trace a wet, humid stripe along your jaw, his putrid saliva mingling with your tears. "Hah... You taste sweeter than I imagined, Liebling," he purrs, and you shudder beneath him, the sensation both revolting and terrifying. His fingers then trail down your stomach, his touch like a brand against your skin.
"But you forgot something," he breathes, forcing your trembling knees apart.
Your blood runs cold as he carves a delicate line along your abdomen with the knife. He stops just below your navel and flattens the blade against your stomach, sliding it beneath your underwear. His movements are slow, deliberate, and you can feel the blade prodding the delicate skin of your groin.
Strade's breathing is quick and shallow, his breath warm across your face as the flush of excitement tints his cheeks. "Don't squirm too much," he whispers, his voice trembling with anticipation.
Without looking down, he begins to slice through the fabric of your underwear, the knife gliding effortlessly through the thin material. The sound of ripping cloth fills the silence, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. As the last shred of fabric falls away, your body is laid bare, exposed and vulnerable beneath him.
He runs the flat of the blade over your abdomen once more, a sadistic smile spreading across his face as he revels in your fear. "So rein," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "So unbroken. It's almost a shame." He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, "but not quite."
As Strade sheaths the knife, you attempt to pull yourself away, the concrete chafing your palms with each drag. He follows close behind you, his cruel smile unwavering. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you desperately try to crawl faster, but it's futile. His hand clamps down on your waist with a bruising grip, yanking you back towards him.
You cry out in terror and frustration, the sound echoing in the desolate basement. He flips you onto your wounded stomach, your skin scraping painfully against the floor. With a sadistic grin, Strade forces your head down, pressing your cheek into the rough concrete. It bites harshly into your skin, and you can feel your tears mingling with the grime.
The metallic clink of a belt buckle sends a fresh wave of fear through you, and the sound of a zipper follows soon after. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as he positions himself between your legs, his weight pressing down on you. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and kneading, leaving blooms of purple on your tender skin.
His grin widens as he leans in, panting. "This may... sting a little," he taunts, his voice sticky against your ear.
"No! Wait!" you cry, your voice cracking with desperation. Your pleas are met with cold indifference as he slams into you, his cock worming past the resisting tissue and resting deep inside. A searing pain rips through your body, and you scream, the sound raw and guttural.
"Mmm, perfekt..." he huffs, revelling in your agony.
You choke on your sobs, the foreign sensation warm and heavy, and tearing with force. Something warm and wet trickles down your thighs, coating them—and him— in a cherry-red sheen. With each brutal thrust, your cheek grates against the rough concrete floor, the blistering ache engulfing your pleas. Strade shows no mercy, his movements relentless and punishing, each gasp and flinch you make fueling his perverse excitement.
"That's it," he breathes, heavy and strained. "Scream for me."
The pain blurs into a surreal haze, your mewls crumbling into incoherent moans and whimpers. Strade's weight is suffocating and his flesh is damp against yours; a clammy, sweaty layer uniting you both. His breath is hot and heavy as it mingles with the nauseating wet slapping between you.
His teeth drag threateningly along your shoulder as his thrusts become more frenzied. He curses against your skin before biting down hard on your neck with a sudden, primal urge. You yelp in pain and he cums, the warm spurts seeping deep inside your body.
Strade chuckles breathlessly as he pushes himself off of you, his eyes heavy and pupils dilated.
Your own eyes flutter open, puffy and glossed with tears as you roll over, curling into yourself on the unforgiving concrete. Through the haze, you dimly register the traces of your spit and blood splattered beside your face; the rough surface glittering almost beautifully under the light.
#sssoooo sorry for the wait aaagggg#strade x reader#btd x reader#btd strade#ykmet strade#strade btd#joonsbagchaser requests#tw noncon#tw violence#tw blood
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I'm sleeping my way out of this one
WC: ~400
Warnings: NSFW (just barely imo), buggy, not x reader, angsty sad lonely, sorry not sorry
Title from 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen) by Fall Out Boy
Buggy woke up to a soft thud, a whispered explicative, and a pause. Muffled sounds from the bar downstairs permeated the space, carrying through the shoddy wood floor, as the other person waited to see if their clumsiness interrupted the pirate’s dreams.
It did, but Buggy wouldn’t let them know. Feigning sleep was one of his many skills. An airy sigh broke the quiet, followed by a slow roll onto his side. Another pause for dramatic effect, then gradual heavy breathing to sell the story.
Fabric rustled behind him. The ruse worked. They continued getting dressed, taking care to avoid the scratch of a zipper or the jangle of a belt. Soft padded footsteps meant they were carrying their shoes. The door clicked open, allowing more noise and a swath of amber light to invade. When the door shut, Buggy was alone.
From his spot in the bed, Buggy stared at the window. The distant moon hanging in the sky stared back. It had barely traveled half of its nightly journey. It moved at a snail’s pace, as if to tell the pirate there was so much night left. As if to taunt him.
The room was his until morning, when the scent of coffee overtook stale beer, but Buggy had only paid for a few hours of company. Hours that had slipped by as fast as they always did during these kinds of nights.
Buggy turned away from the watchful moon and towards the recently vacated side of the bed. Rather than continuing to use paper and coins to fill the hole in his chest, Buggy decided to barricade himself within the sheets. The smell of sex and cheap fragrances clung to the blanket - rickety reinforcements for the flimsy fortress.
Closing his eyes, Buggy restarted his process of pretending to sleep. As he waited for the illusion to become real, he imagined that he wasn’t alone. That his companion hadn’t left.
Maybe they’ll come back and won’t cringe or avoid looking at him. Maybe they went to the bathroom or stepped out for a smoke. Maybe they popped down to the bar and they will wake him with an ice cold beer and a blow job. Maybe he’ll wake up wrapped in their arms, instead of this scratchy blanket.
Maybe one day he’d be smothered in kisses instead of loneliness.
#buggy angst#buggy the clown#buggy op#opla buggy#one piece buggy#buggy fanfic#buggy the clown fanfiction#buggy fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#one piece fanfic#one piece
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Pink choices and sweet pastries
Out of spite I have denied myself the loveliest mistresses of life.
I was so busy banging against my cookie cutter tin jail,
I missed so much joy, I thought it was the way.
Pink was my enemy, for the longest years.
Pretty shoes and handbags,
Anger out of fear.
Screaming in my bounds I threw my head up and down.
The metal cuts with ragged edges.
Never took a breath and looked around.
flailing, I ensnare myself in cutting ropes.
Fearful fire set to dwindling hope.
But I can build my own freedoms out of skincare and roses. Frilly dresses and pink blouses. I can colour my choices magenta and still be way stronger.
00:16 20.04.2024
#my poem#poetry#poets corner#poets on tumblr#original poem#poem#poems and poetry#writers and poets#female poets#poetic#spilled writing#spilled emotions#spilled poem#spilled poetry#spilled truth#spilled feelings#spilled heart#spilled words#spilled thoughts#spilled ink#pink feminism#you don’t need maskulinity to be strong#or brute force#softness is allowed to take up space just as much#feminism is freedom of choice#that includes the choice to choose pink without subscribing to roles#but it can#if you choose so
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.
#i wanna be completely adored and spoiled and taken care of#i wanna feel safe enough to open up and be soft and vulnerable w someone#i wanna trust someone so much that I allow them to take care of me#I wanna return the same energy and adoration to that person and spoil tf out of them#I’ve had this many times before and have loved all of it#I’m honestly in a space where I’m ready for it again#I’m just waiting for them to knock on my door at this point lmao#ah. anyways.
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"Ah, yes. Me, my beloved Prefect and my lookalike tsum from another dimension."
Twst Boys and their reactions to you cuddling their tsum instead of them Headcanons
part 1 part 2 part 3
Riddle Rosehearts
He's baffled.
There has to be a rule about this somewhere!
Yes. The Headmage said he must look after the tsum until it can get back to where it came from and he will, but this is too much.
Does this creature have no manners?!
It must know the two of you are dating. It might even have its own version of you waiting for him to return!
And yet.
Here it is, hogging all your attention as you hold it close to yourself.
You're not even facing him!
And no. He is not crossing his arms and pouting.
Cater Diamond
He thought the tsum was pretty nice at first.
He's been forced to reconsider.
Cater would love to take a picture of you with his tsum. For his eyes only so don't you worry~
You must look so cute snuggled with the plush!
And it looks like him!
It really would be adorable!
If only you weren't facing away from him, your face presumably buried in the soft tummy of his lookalike.
.......
This is not fair. You should be cuddling him! He's your boyfriend! Not that overgrown bean.
He secretly hopes the tsum falls off the bed in the middle of the night.
Leona Kingscholar
What do you mean you prefer that stupid plush??? He's right here!
Very much not happy. No matter how cute you look with his tsum in your arms.
He tries to pull the tsum out of your arms.
Tsum Leona is not letting go.
They lock eyes.
You're pretty sure they're glaring at each other.
.....
Fine. He'll let the tsum have this. He's not gonna risk an accident just because that bean is unwilling to let you go.
You're gonna have his tail on you tho.
Jack Howl
Why are you hugging his tsum like that?
Why is his tsum looking like a puppy getting affection?
He's getting second hand embarrassment.
It's not because he would like to be held like that by you. It's because....
Uh. Because...
I mean! He's a wolf! His tsum is a wolf! It should be a little more... dignified.
He's not needy like that!
And he didn't agree to this. The tsum has not business being in his space like this. Cuddling with his s/o....
He keeps looking over to you and his tsum. He's snatching that bean out of your arms at first light. They're gonna go for a run.
Floyd Leech
So this could go one of two ways:
Either he's annoyed and tries to snatch the offending plush from you, which will end up in a fight between the two.
Or
He thinks it's hilarious and that you look cute like that.
He still wants his cuddles tho.
What's Floyd to do in this situation?
He just plops himself over you and the tsum. He's letting all of his weight crush you.
Lucky(?) for you it's only his torso crushing you.
Good luck.
Epel Felmier
He's finally allowed to have a sleepover and this happens!
You've got to be kidding him.
Please tell him this is a joke. He's glaring daggers at the tsum.
I mean.... He's a strong and independent man! He doesn't need those cuddles.
Yes. Yes he does.
He's fine!
He keeps glaring at the happy tsum in your arms.
It's mocking him.
There's no way it's not.
He tries to snatch it out of your arms, but makes the mistake of going for the head.
He gets bitten by his tsum.
Sebek Zigvolt
First Malleus-sama, now this!
This creature must be taught respect!
HOW DARE IT JUMP INTO YOUR ARMS SO SHAMELESSLY!!!!
WHO DOES IT THINK IT IS?!
A KNIGHT TO MALLEUS SHOULD NOT BEHAVE THIS WAY!
UNBELIEVABLE!
Sebek gets into a one-sided screaming match with his tsum.
By the end of it he's almost in tears. How dare this glorified plush bean steal your affections away from him!
Tsum Sebek ignores all of this. It is far too preoccupied with enjoying your pets and hugs.
You attempt to console Sebek by promising it's only for tonight.
He does not look consoled.
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst wonderland#disney twst#twst tsum tsum#riddle rosehearts x reader#cater diamond x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#jack howl x reader#floyd leech x reader#epel felmier x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#riddle x reader#cater x reader#leona x reader#jack x reader#floyd x reader#epel x reader#sebek x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland
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simon riley with a virgin!gf would be such a sweet, softhearted bully. always making an effort to be so gentle with you, never pressuring you past a prolonged kiss or some touches between layers of fabric, only to turn around and relentlessly tease you in passing.
simon riley with a virgin!gf and his addiction to subtly dragging a hand up your thigh when you're in public, whispering sexual remarks in your ear to get you all hot and flustered at the worst of times.
simon riley with a virgin!gf thought the reason he worked you up so much and so often was to get you begging for it, but was proven terribly wrong when he finally broke through your reserve and even he couldn't believe the words that came so surely from his mouth.
"not yet, baby. wanna make sure you're ready for me when the time comes, otherwise you’ll end up hurtin’ yourself."
simon riley with a virgin!gf adores watching you touch yourself. whether it be from right by your side as he guides you along, or from the entrance to your bedroom as you missed his texts telling you he’d be home early. he just loves to see you struggling to finish, getting all frustrated and embarrassed when you can’t do it yourself, prompting him to reassure you that everything’s alright before he’s taking over.
simon riley with a virgin!gf allows you to use his thigh or abs to get off only when you really need it badly, which you'll need to be in tears to prove most often. it's cruel, maybe, but reticence is necessary.
simon riley with a virgin!gf will urge you on as you rub your clothed cunt against his flexed muscles, even grabbing your hips to help you finish when you lose energy and begin to slow your movements. laughs when he bounces his leg to make you lose balance and yelp, but pouts in sympathy when you whine 'cause he ruined your high.
simon riley with a virgin!gf never lets you use his crotch to get off, though, as he can't promise his own restraint after a certain amount of your whines. it's the only time the soldier feels grossly weak, and you could never seem to figure out why it’d be such a bad thing.
simon riley with a virgin!gf gives you his mouth at most, and that's only after weeks of your pining and pleading for the next step. he just had to taste you before he went mad, but nothing more. he adores your innocence far too much to take it away it so soon.
the first time simon riley eats you out is nothing short of a warm mess. he tries to take his time—and he did, bringing out every word of praise in his vocabulary as you gradually got more comfortable—but once he started with the real thing, he couldn't hold himself back.
his thick and hot tongue laps at your pussy as his eyes quickly turn dazed, big inked arms wrapped around your soft thighs to hold your sensitive frame down. you can't tell that he's just slightly grinding himself down on the bed since you're instantly entranced in watching him show you what you've been missing out on for so long.
you don't notice how severely his cock strains in his pants with your mind only able to focus on the knot in your stomach, and how pretty he looks with a slick-covered stubble and drunken smirk. he makes you come on his tongue once before the moment is quickly cut short, your blissful whimpers and raw taste driving him to mutter a sharp swear under his breath and abandon you for the restroom.
you're left on the bed alone, distraught and worried you'd done something wrong, completely unaware to the fact he's fisting his cock with gritted teeth and an unruly pace only a door away.
heavy breathing filling the space, his mind running on all the possibilities for how he could just take you right now, apologize for everything. christ, he should just give you what you want and his poor cock throbs at the prospect, but what kind of man would he be?
he bites his tongue, muffles his groans, and spills himself in his palm with clenched eyelids and fists. absolutely shameful, but bound to happen. you hear the sink run for a moment before he's returning without a single trace or reason for his disappearance. he reads the guilt on your face and soothes you with a kiss to the forehead.
"sorry for the wait, lovie. wasn't very fair of me to leave you like this, now, was it?" and you can only shake your head, tears spilling over.
and finally, simon riley with a virgin!gf who will spend the rest of his day making things up to you: resuming his services with a newfound patience, showing you all the best ways to touch yourself for when he's not there- or for when he is there, because as he reminds you often, he won't be able to take his sweet girl's virginity for a long, long time. for your own sake, of course <3
#cod mw#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost mw3#simon riley smut#ghost smut#simon riley x reader#simon riley x female reader#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader
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happy father’s day ♡
“happy father’s day.” you purr, turning your face to meet the man behind you.
you grind your clad pussy subtly against the man’s buldge, making him groan.
“whaddya mean , hm ? we don’t got kids, doll.” toji grumbles against your neck, hand coming up under your shirt to grope at your warm tit.
“s’because you’re my daddy.”
he chuckles, warm breath spreading across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.
“is that right?” he whispers, hand now trailing lower and lower, fondling your soft tummy. he reciprocates your neediness, rolling his hips back into yours following your rhythm. his beefy tip nudges against your slit slightly, causing you to jolt.
“mmf— mhm .”
“y’gonna give y’r daddy a blowjob then?”
“you’re so gross, toji.” you giggle.
“don’t be fussy now.” he reprimands, sitting up against the headboard before placing you in between his legs. he crosses his legs behind you, caging you in, leaving you no space to move from the position he set you in.
“make daddy feel good.”
“‘kay, daddy,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek over his clothed bulge. you press hot kisses all over his shaft, starting from his plump balls, ensuring you lick on them to work him up, leading your way up to his cock head. his slit leaves a creamy residue on the fabric of his boxers, bleeding onto the other side.
you waste no time licking and sucking on the little slit of cream through the fabric, sighing at the feeling of your hot tongue pressed against his cock head.
“shit.”
he watches you from afar, mouth so close yet so far from his dick. he really can’t stand it !
“d’you want more daddy ?”
“course, doll face. be good and put that sweet mouth to use.” he pulls down his boxers just below his fat balls before pressing your face inches away from his cock. you watch his tip drool, pre cum dripping down the underside of his shaft. you lick up a stripe, bringing your lips to suckle on the swollen head , running your tongue through the salty divot.
he lets you take your time, enjoying the show you’ve put up for him. your eyes peer up at him once in a while, glassy and full of love, to be met with his emerald ones that glow with a glint of evil. toji truly is an evil man.
“don’t make me wait now. be good f’your daddy ‘nd suck him off, yeah?” you bring your lips further down his shaft, hands coming up to jerk at the large gap of cock that your little mouth is incapable to handling itself. it damn near makes him moan, watching you try to please him to the best of your abilities. he wasn’t used to such treatment , especially when you’re used to laying below him and allowing the hunk of a man do the work. not like he minded, at all.
you continue suckling on him, hot tongue dragging along the veins of his cock. it wraps around his pudgy tip perfectly, pressing a bit of pressure on his slit making him shiver and groan.
“t-that’s enough , get off doll.”
he tugs you off by pulling at your hair, making you whine at the loss. saliva strings from your glossy lips, connecting you to the tip of his cock. you could only think about the loss of his fat load in your mouth, the creamy and salty texture painting your face in fat spurts, now all gone in a matter of seconds.
“n-no, why , daddy ? ‘s supposed to be your gift !”
you whine , a petulant pout spread across your face when he holds you tight by your scalp to prevent you from crawling back onto his dick. he smiles.
“y’only stopped me because you were gunna cum.” you bark, lips quivering at the sight of his drooly cock before you.
“yeah, so? gotta put this load to use . don’t got as much as i used to, doll.” he chuckles, flipping you below him in one quick motion. his calloused fingers come to pull your panties aside holding them in place with a fat thumb, revealing your messy cunt. you gasp , and he allows you no time to reciprocate what’s happening before he begins rubbing his messy cock head in between your folds, separating the fat lips.
“happy mother’s day , doll .”
“what’re you talking about? w-we don’t have kids.” you mock meekly with a giggle.
“oh,” he laughs.
“we’ll see about that.”
#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji <3#toji smut#jujutsu toji#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊
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tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.
[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]
“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.
His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.
“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”
You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.
“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”
It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”
It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”
Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”
“I need to— You said I could go—”
“Just give me another minute, darling.”
His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.
“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#degrees of lewdity#dol#harper the doctor#dol harper#harper x reader#yandere harper#dol harper x reader#yandere drabble#yandere degrees of lewdity#degrees of lewdity imagines#yandere dol#dol imagines
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Summonings
Ever since Danny Phantom became the Ghost King, he’s had to deal with an endless amount of crap. An eternity of it, actually, and it was constantly causing him unending amount of existential crises and stress.
First, there was the paperwork. Pariah Dark, the incompetent asshole, had left him decades worth of bureaucracy to painfully sift through. He ended up hiring some ghosts with paperwork obsessions to sort some of that out. Who knew ruling the infinite realms would require this much paperwork? He’s lucky each section of the underworld had their own systems to report to their own rulers who, in turn, report to him.
Secondly, there were the Observers. And other ghosts, like his own rogues, but they were the main issues. Eyeball menaces. They protested his appointment, something he actually agreed with. Putting a fifteen year old on the throne is rarely a smart decision. But the Infinite Realm values strength, the only type of currency that matters in the land of the gods and the dead. Danny? Phantom? He’s got strength in spades. With only a few months of being a ghost, Danny had managed to defeat Pariah Dark, who had cowered gods and struck fear into the hearts of ghost heroes.
But Danny hasn’t quite realized the significance of that yet, too focused on the realization that he was about to be in charge of the infinite realms. The Observants, since his reluctant and extremely limited coronation, has been up his ass about doing things the “proper way.”
Danny’s main problem lies with the ridiculous amount of paperwork though. It’s fine. Tedious. But fine.
But if he gets one more fifteen page essay style complaint form about some guy named Constantine, Danny might seriously reconsider donning Dan’s ruthlessness and offing the guy himself. Perhaps grab the man by his shoulders and shake him like a rag doll and ask who the fuck told him it was a good idea to sell his soul out like that? Danny eventually just sent out Skulker to hunt down the contracts and trade minor services for them. He owns most of the soul now, and perhaps he’ll hunt this guy down and force him to do paperwork.
Regardless, paperwork was just often tedious. He’s worked out a system for himself. The halfa, true to his teenage form, had better things to be doing. His homework, for one. Hanging out with his friends and logging in hours for Doomed 2 would be another. But no, he’s here, twirling a pen as he glared down at a stack of forms for a zone expansion. What the fuck does Zeus want to expand his zone for? The current share space of the sky domain is literally a perfect balance with respect towards the other gods. For the love of- Danny slams down a red ‘REJECTED’ stamp on top of the stack. His hair flickers wildly in annoyance, the iced over Crown floating above his head emitting concerning levels of frost. To anyone else but himself, of course.
He then feels a soft tug on his core.
Right. The third most annoying thing about becoming King: the fucking summoning. Danny taps his pen against his lips, clicking it against his fangs, as he considers the summoning circle that calls him. Huh. Desperation. Mildly bloody. Fear. Resignation- ah, fuck it, it’s not like he’s too enthusiastic about staying to do work with the Observers poking around. He takes the summoning, allowing his regalia to overtake his normal hazmat-clad form, and approves the summoning.
Oh hey, Danny thinks he recognizes that ugly ass trenchcoat.
—-
John Constantine has had more than enough practice summoning things that would give people nightmares. But there are things he normally refuses to touch, refuses to even entertain the idea of trying. As usual, desperation made John its bitch and the Justice League’s battered and bruised faces tugged on his shriveled heart.
He’s going to summon something from the Infinite Realms. Oh, but he wasn’t just summoning any old ghost. No, he thought, I’m just going to summon the one being that’s guaranteed to be able to crush our universe without breaking a sweat. Bollocks.
“Is it ready?”
“Untwist your pants, spooky,” John snaps, wishing he had a crate of whiskey he could down. “We’re trying to summon the Ghost King, not your average demon.”
“What do we know about him?” Batman’s gravelly voice demanded.
“Powerful enough to take us all out without even breaking a sweat. Defeated the bloody tyrant who ruled over the Realms last I heard.”
“That’s it?”
“You could ask Deadman, but I heard he’s on the outs with the Infinite Realms on the fact that he’s made of pure magic, not ectoplasm.”
“There’s no guarantee the king will work with us.” Zatanna says, pressing her fingertips together tiredly. She had been at the forefront of the battle and had paid the price for it. “But he’s supposedly more benevolent than his predecessor… and we’re out of options.”
“Hm.”
“Just make sure to shut up and let me do the talking.”
“Hn.”
John rolls his eyes and takes a fortifying breath, something that does not go unnoticed by the League. They all tense up, preparing themselves for a battle. Another one, seeing as they all got their ass kicked by a ghost only ten hours ago. The League is spread thin, running interference to distract the ghost in question and evacuating civilians.
John Constantine started chanting, the glow of his magic lighting up the circle as he spills his blood into the circle.
He waits, heart in his throat, for the summoning to work.
“Is it supposed to take-” Red Robin asks, only to cut himself off as the circle flares once more. Power pulsates outwards from the circle. Frost crackles on the frost resistant floors, spreading outwards as a green portal rips open the fabric of time and space. Long, spindly imitations of a hand grabs the edges of space and pulls, heaving the rest of his celestial body out of the tear in reality. John does not look away. He can not look away, not from the eerie green pallor of the King, not from his torrential white wisps of hair, not from the black-hole like material of his outfit, not from the nebulas and beginnings and endings tailored onto the King’s cape. John could not look away from the ice crown that floated like a bastion of power above the king’s head.
His mouth is dry. What price will he have to pay to save the world? What price will this being demand of him, of the Justice League, to save the world?
John desperately needs that drink.
—-
Oh! He’s in his home dimension! His core purrs at coming home, at the close proximity to his first haunt.
He was expecting cultists, or even the Winchesters again, but this is nice.
The Justice League- summoning him. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they hear about this.
They’ve been staring at him in silence for a bit now. It was getting awkward.
“Why have you summoned me?” He asks, softening his tone. By their winces, he didn’t get it as well as he thought. Danny grimaces. At the first sign of discomfort though, the man in the trenchcoat- is that fucking Constantine?!- launches into a nerve filled tirade.
“Your, uh, Majesty.” He starts. “One of… One of your subjects is wreaking havoc on the world. We would be extremely grateful if… if you could reign him in?”
Danny’s face sours, only to quickly clear his expression as he realized how much even a small hint of displeasure causes the jumpiness in Constantine and the others.
“To do that, I will have to make a contract with you, seeing as you’ve summoned me.” Danny drawls, letting his overly long digits wave at the summoning circle in question. He could break it, of course, but Danny’s bored and trying to draw this out. He’s not saying he’d take a batch of cookies as payment but that’s exactly what he’s saying.
“The price… you could always have my soul?”
Danny pauses. “Your… soul?”
Oh, he did not say what he just said.
“Yes. My soul.”
Oh, he did.
Fuck it. Danny’s flashbacks of suffering through the reports pushes green into his irises and urgency to his action.
He breaks out of the circle, hands lunging and gripping Constantine’s jaw tightly. Danny ignores the shouts of alarm as he allows the thrown weapons to pass through him.
John Constantine is panicking now, struggling in the air as Danny lifts him an inch off the floor in agitation.
Good.
“Your soul, little wizard? The one you’ve split eight ways till the thirtieth of February? The one that caused,” he tightens his grip, no doubt bruising the man. “An insane amount of paperwork that I’ve had to suffer through. Your soul, John Constantine?”
Danny hisses his name. The man makes a warbling noise that Danny takes as acknowledgement. Danny bats away the weak spell Zatanna sends at him with a hand.
“You’ll find that I am in the possession of most of your soul contracts. To simply put,” he grins, teeth made of dying stars on display. “I own your soul. My soul, now.”
He drops the wizard who collapses onto his knees to stare up at him in horror, eyes flicking between the circle that was meant to contain him and Danny, who is very much not contained. He crouches down- something necessary but disjointed as he’s not used to this taller form- and speaks to Constantine in a slow, dead serious, drawl.
“If you ever sell your soul again, you and I are going to have issues. Is that clear, John Constantine?”
“Uh- yeah, yes, yes, your majesty.”
Patting his cheek condescendingly, Danny gets up and sighs, stress relieved. He’s starting to feel bad, though, so he allows his form to ripple back to his normal teenage Phantom self.
“Well, it’s not like anyone will buy it, since they know they’ll have to go against me.” He chirps, flipping 180 from his terror inducing eldritch voice. “So, what’ll you pay me to get rid of whatever ghost you’ve got?”
“…. Nothing?”
Red Robin holds out a bag, eyebags betraying his exhaustion. “I’ve got fifty dollars and a bag of cookies.”
Phantom beams at him. “Throw in a couple of autographs and you’ve got a deal.”
“That’s- yeah, okay.” Red Robin says, inching forward cautiously to hand him the bag.
“Great. I’ll be back for them later. You can call me Phantom. ‘Your Majesty’ gets annoying after a while.”
“Thank- thank you for your mercy, Your- Phantom.” Wonder Woman says.
“Sure. Make sure this idiot doesn’t make any more deals with demons while I’m out, yeah?”
With that, Danny Phantom grabs the bag of cookies and fifty dollars and flies through the wall to do his job.
John slams his head onto the space station floor.
“Fuck.”
—-
Danny: lol I’ll do it for the shits and giggles
Constantine and the League: he’s terrifying, a bastion of pure power and authority
Red Robin, Young “we commit war crimes bc it gets shit done” Justice leader and fellow gremlin: he’d probably do it for cookies. I would.
#dc x dp#danny phantom#john constantine#batman#Bruce Wayne being tired af#ghostly shenanigans#bamf Danny phantom#ghost king danny
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WHEN YOU CAN’T FALL ASLEEP
ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor
p.s.! ₊˚. for all my sleepy girls (gn) we’re in this together
DAZAI ー dazai’s futon doesn’t allow you much space to move. you try to shift again, as delicately as you can with his body curled around yours. no matter how hard you tried to match your breathing to his, close your eyes, and relax, you just couldn’t seem to fall asleep tonight.
the last thing you want is to disturb him. dazai barely got enough rest, only sleeping through the night occasionally; he looks so pretty when he does, with his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, letting out soft, shallow breaths against your chest through his parted lips.
you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and dropping your head back onto your pillow, when you hear a familiar whine, and your stomach drops.
he lifts his head, mumbling your name. his eyes are lidded, cheeks warm and imprinted by the wrinkles from your shirt. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you try to urge his head back down, rubbing his scalp in the way you know he loves. “i’m okay. go back to sleep, ‘samu.”
you tilt your head to the side, looking down at him. he folds his arms against your chest, looking up at you from beneath his lashes.
“you’re not a good liar,” he smiles. it’s small and sleepy, and you wish you had enough energy to kiss it off his face.
“i can’t sleep,” you sigh. “but you should. it’s still early, i think.”
you try to peek at the time on your phone as he leans up on his elbows, turning your face towards his. he kisses your forehead, trailing down until his lips press against the space between your eyebrows, then down to the bridge of your nose.
“how am i supposed to kiss you awake if you don’t fall asleep first?” he whispers, tracing his thumb beneath your eye. you kiss the side of his wrist, leaning into his hand.
he pulls himself up until your positions are swapped, with his head on the pillow, and your head on his chest. he rests his cheek against your hair as he drags his fingertips down the back of your neck, rubbing little circles between your shoulder blades.
he hums softly, a song you can’t quite place. even barely murmuring, you can hear the sweetness in his voice, like he simply couldn’t hold in his adoration for you.
the calm beat of his heart and the soft vibrations from his chest soothe your mind. all your thoughts slip away, only a faraway whisper of sweet dreams, my love and the soft press of lips against your forehead before you fall asleep.
CHUUYA ー you can hear chuuya’s quiet movements as he comes home from a late night mission, a mumbled curse slipping from his mouth when he’s a little too loud taking off his shoes. he cracks the bedroom door open, eyebrows raising when he sees you.
“you’re still awake?” he opens the door further. “you okay, baby?”
you nod into your comforter, watching blearily as he pulls his gloves off by each finger before he brushes your bangs away from your face.
“i’ll be right back,” he whispers, bending down to kiss your forehead. “don’t wait for me if you can help it, alright?”
you nod again, eyes falling shut as he kisses your forehead one more time. you hear the gentle thud of his dresser drawer closing, the sound of leather hitting the bathroom floor. you don’t know how much time has passed when you open your eyes again, looking up at him in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
“c’mon,” he squeezes your hand, sheets falling to your waist as he pulls you to sit up. “let’s go for a drive.”
the cool leather of chuuya’s car seat isn’t as comfortable as your bed, but you can already feel the heaviness in your chest start to dissipate as he drives.
you rest your head on the tinted window, looking out at the passing buildings. his hand rests against your thigh, and you lift it off, just enough for you to slide your fingers in between his own.
there aren’t many people out on the road this late, but he’s still careful, only sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. with the security and warmth that comes from chuuya’s presence next to you, and the gentle movement of the car, it doesn’t take long for your eyes to fall shut.
when he looks over and sees your face, completely relaxed, he exhales, sagging in relief against his headrest. he can’t get enough of you, bundled up in his passenger seat, holding his hand firmly, even in your sleep.
he’ll drive around a little longer, he decides, just to watch the way the lights wash over your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones, the pretty pink of your lips.
at least it’d be no problem for him to carry you back to bed.
RANPO ー every night, ranpo curls on top of you with the lingering scent of freshly baked pastries clinging to his skin, and his messy hair tickling your jaw from how he nuzzles his face against your neck.
his body is always a comforting weight, but sleep evades you tonight. you stare up at the ceiling, gently drawing little shapes through his shirt with your finger.
“i know you’re awake.”
you jump when he whispers in your ear, heart rate spiking painfully in your chest. he lifts his head up; his eyes are open, bright green and staring at you. the tips of your noses brush from how close he is.
“your thoughts woke me up,” he answers before you can ask, poking your forehead. “they’re too loud.”
“sorry,” you sigh, wincing when he flicks your forehead.
“why are you apologizing?” he whispers, tilting his chin up to kiss the spot he flicked. “go to sleep.”
“i can’t,” you whine, childishness rivaling his own.
“that’s ‘cause you’re not trying hard enough,” he mumbles, pout evident in his voice. “your eyes aren’t even closed.”
he traces his finger down the bridge of your nose, then up again. he grazes your hairline as he travels across your forehead next, and your eyes grow heavy with each movement, slowly falling shut.
“ranpoー”
“shhh,” he smooths his thumb along your eyebrow, making his way back down your nose. “go to sleep.”
he keeps tracing your features, even after your eyes are all the way closed and your face is completely relaxed beneath his hand. he brushes his fingers across your cupid’s bow, tracing down to the plush of your bottom lip.
“there,” he whispers, leaving butterfly kisses along your jaw as he nuzzles back into you. “that’s better.”
FYODOR ー you’ve been teetering on the edge of sleep ever since you first laid down, hours ago. you’re sure it’s the early hours of the morning by now, and you sigh, stretching your arm to the other side of the bed. it’s cold, sheets still untouched.
it was rare fedya came to bed at night, no matter how much you wished he would. curling into his side always helped you rest easier. his presence is a calming one, maybe only to you.
you bundle up your blanket, holding it in place around your shoulders as you get out of bed. the ends trail along the hallway floor like a cloak as you tiptoe to his office. the steady sound of him typing comes to a stop as soon as you open the door, and he turns around in his chair, just enough to look at you.
“what are you doing up at this hour?” his eyebrows furrow, like the hypocrite he is.
“i don’t know,” you mumble around a yawn. “i just missed you.”
he swivels completely to face you, opening his arms. he makes no complaints about accommodating you as you sit on his lap, curling yourself around him, cheek falling to rest against his shoulder. you shift to look at his screens, monitor light seeming so much brighter to your tired eyes in the darkness of his office.
“don’t look at those,” he tilts your head further into his shoulder. “you’ll only keep yourself awake longer.”
you press your face into his neck, seeking out the soothing chill of his skin. you arch further into him when his fingertips sneak beneath your shirt, rubbing along the knobs of your spine. his typing is rhythmic, fingers gently pressing into your skin each time he pauses to think as you feel the rise and fall of his chest against your body.
he feels your breaths, deep and even against his shoulder, and spares a glance at you: asleep. he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lips curling up as you try to snuggle impossibly closer to him.
“rest well, my dear,” he pulls the edge of the blanket tighter around you. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”
BSD MASTERLIST
#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#ranpo x reader#fyodor x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd imagines#bsd scenarios#bsd fluff#dazai osamu x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#edogawa ranpo x reader#dazai fluff#chuuya fluff#ranpo fluff#fyodor fluff#bsd x you
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✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping
Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (separate)
When the stars are perched in the night sky, and the world becomes wrapped in a still blanket of darkness - there is no better action than departing to your safe space, the coziness of your bedroom, and the safety of your beloved’s body next to you. The lights are dimmed and after a warm shower and a change into comfy pajamas, your beloved is met with a tender sight of your sleepy figure. It is time for rest, and with his arms open, beckoning you to hop into his embrace - you join him in bed at last.
✧ A single glance from Pierro and his eyes would instantly soften upon seeing your sleepy expression. The Director of the Fatui doesn’t require any questions or even verbal communication to know that something is troubling you. Your solemn gaze and slumped shoulders tell him more than enough - and his heart aches in response. Silently but gently, he pulls you closer, his star-shaped pupils seeking answers from your own.
“My divine one... A long day?” - he whispers, his hand lifting your chin to make you look at him. You don’t directly respond, but nod and press your lips into a thin line. Pierro sighs, yearning to vanquish all your worries and pain. But sometimes, words are superfluous.
“Do not fret your little heart. No harm shall come, for I am here, my divine. Shall I take you to bed, instead?”
With a small nod and a timid glance from you, Pierro spoke no further. He knew what you required on such solemn nights as these, and instead, allowed his arms to pick you up, carrying your fatigued figure in his bigger embrace. He pulled you closer, his cheek gently grazing your face as he whispered soothing words and brought you to bed.
He tucked you in, the king-sized bed bringing the familiar sensation of silky sheets and warm covers. He kisses your forehead with careful and slow deliberation before accompanying you to sleep.
When Pierro sleeps beside you, he is often silent, but his gaze never leaves your figure. He’d lay on his side, gazing at your face as if it were the stars and the moon itself. Even within the dimness of the room, he has memorized the outline of your face, the soothing rhythm of your breathing, the contour of your figure. With one hand around you, you two slept peacefully, the troubles of the world left behind. Even the Fatui’s Director required solace, and this solace he would locate only in your tender arms; his sanctuary.
✧ Il Capitano has memorized your routine. Take a shower, get ready for bed, and most importantly, sleep on top of him as if his body were a sturdy mattress. It’s not your fault your cherished is so much taller and bigger, right? Well luckily for you, he absolutely adores it when you climb on top of him, resting your head on top of his chest and legs around his hips. Your smaller figure clad tight around him like a loving weighted blanket while he slept on his back. His hands would gladly squeeze you, loving your softness against his toned physique.
“You don’t mind my weight on top of you, Cappy?” - you’d often ask every night before bed, peeking at him with that tender worry that made the Harbinger melt in an instant. Capitano would continue to hold you, his sharp fingers tracing circles gently on your hips or your back.
“Dearest, I have carried heavier weights that quadruple you in size. If you were to bother me, would I be pulling you back to my arms whenever you toss and turn?”
And thus, with the seal of approval from the honorable Captain, you’d smile triumphantly and sleep on him. That’s just how the two of you were: Capitano was a beast in size, slept still, and barely moved when on his back. Conversely, you were smaller in size, slept very lightly, and often turned or wrestled with the covers. Even when you had the spacious bed to your leisure, you always chose to sleep tightly clinging to him. And Capitano revered every second of it as if it was the biggest honor in his duty as your protector. Truly, an honorable knight protecting your dreams.
✧ Sharing a bed with Il Dottore is a toil. If you managed to miraculously drag him out of his lab, he’d groan and argue that he has important research to do, that your concern for his sleep schedule is ‘childish’. Yet the moment he settles in bed, he becomes a menace to your sanity:
“Are you coming to bed or not?”
“Come here, closer.”
“No, you are pushing around.”
And the cherry on top of it all? He’d stare at you during the entire night, maskless. You know he doesn’t easily fall asleep, even on days when he overexhausted himself in his experiments. So naturally, his method to relax is to press the side of his head tightly against your chest and just remain glued to you with the sound of your heartbeat being his salvation. You’d assume it is an adorable sight… until you’d open your eyes in the middle of the night, only to notice a piercing, red lens just gawking at you. Motionless and still, he just wore that neutral expression while being pressed to your chest.
“...Uh, are you going to just stare at me in the dark?” - you whispered in the dark, to which he won’t even move or change his expression.
“43 beats per minute.”
You blinked sleepily - “... wha-”
“Your heart beats approximately 43 to 50 beats per minute when you sleep. That’s anywhere between 20640 to 24000 beats for 8 hours of sleep.”
It was your turn to gawk at him, albeit in confusion. His nonchalant yet stoic reply told you that he was, indeed, very focused on counting each and every beat of your heart while you slept. He remained pressing his ear to the middle of your chest, arms wrapped around your waist tightly.
“Dottore, have you not slept this entire time…?”
“Shush, stop speaking,” - he whispered more gently, pressing his face into you in a rather touchy manner as if you wouldn’t notice. “I am still counting. Your heart rate is increasing to 81 bpm.”
“If you won’t go to sleep this instance I won’t make any Ajilenakh Cake tomorrow.”
As such, silence dominated the dark bedroom once more. The doctor said no more and settled on hiding his face against your body, not daring to admit that he loved your desserts. And even more, not daring to acknowledge that your heartbeat lulled him to sleep. To deny his infatuation with every beat of your pulse would be a lie, and to deny his longing to physically hold you close would be ignorance. So he settled to silently counting your heartbeat until succumbing to dreamless slumber.
✧ Scaramouche didn’t require sleep. Everyone knew that. Regardless, your persuasion with the 6th knew no bounds as you begged and nagged at him relentlessly to remain beside your bedding. He would audibly scoff and cross his arms at your ridiculous request.
“My body does not need rest for 8-something hours. Why should I even waste such precious time with you while you’re the one unconscious?”
However, no matter how much Scaramouche put up the cold front and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t immune to your ingratiating puppy eyes or gentle tugging whenever you asked something of him. You’d always embrace him from the side, asking him softly to stay a little longer as you depart for the night. He, of course, would refuse and cut your answers short, but his actions told a different story. He was already tucking you in; making sure the futon was neatly laid and the covers warmly wrapped around you while he sat kneeling beside you. He just had to make a fuss first:
“To even insinuate such foolish proposition… You must be truly bored out of your mind.”
You’d only chuckle in response, smiling whenever he made sure your room was tidy and secure for your nightly rest. But even then, you’d reach for his hand, and whisper:
“... Just stay for a while longer. At least until I fall asleep, okay?”
Same scoff. Same attitude. But The Puppeteer never left. He always stayed beside you, despite his arrogant rebuttals that you quickly learned were nothing about. He’d either sit leaning beside you, keeping a silent company, or telling you obscure stories he heard from Inazuma or the Abyss. And at times, Scaramouche would remain kneeling by your futon even after you had fallen asleep.
Your breathing was slow and steady, but he was almost afraid to lean any closer. All bickerings he displayed before were gone, and like a porcelain puppet, Scaramouche would find himself frozen in place, hypnotized by your soothing breathing. He just gazed at you, as if you were a distant star within the dark sky, the palliative breaths emitting from you told him that you were safe. You are here.
And it was from you he learned how gentle breaths are emitted by those deemed “alive”. How your breathing fluctuates in different moments of your life: energetic when happy, hitched when disturbed, and peaceful when asleep. Strangely, this mundane motion of your chest falling and rising worked like a lullaby to Scaramouche.
Alas, he now condemns himself for not caressing your face all these times he watched you sleep. A lonesome Wanderer sat alone, an empty futon beside him. Your familiar presence lacking, and he won’t hear your tranquil breaths. You are not here.
✧ Your dear Pantalone had a fundamental habit before bed. He’d set his glasses aside, hair tied up, and go through his skincare routine right before bed. His hands diligently yet delicately wash all the apprehension and professionalism from his face. But the most important part? Trash talk with you about what happened at his work, while he focused on his reflection in the mirror.
“Could you believe that dear?” - the 9th called out to you from the bathroom, his brows frowning in displeasure. The man continued to cleanse his face. “Those insolent aristocrats offered another bribe under the table, thinking that would change my final statement.”
You responded with a faint “Mhm,” back at him.
“And then! The tasteless bastard dared to ask that some of their reports be delayed because he will pay twice, as long as no one checks for quality control. I mean, the audacity of some of those high-society morons!”
“Right, right” - you murmured faintly from the bedroom.
Pantalone massaged his cheekbones, making sure his face was as affluent as his taste and status. He adjusted his robe, still rambling with the same frustrated passion. “They think that just because they’re doing business with me, negotiating with a high sum of bribes would lead to a guaranteed deal with the Fatui. Ugh.”
This time, there was no response from you. The bedroom was awfully silent, despite the night lamp still shining.
“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently.
Silence. The Regrator stepped out of the bathroom, a curious look on his face, until his eyes spotted you in bed, asleep. His expression immediately softens, all quarrels and gossip forgotten. It seems that his late-night rambles about work have thrilled you so much that you, obviously, dozed off. You didn’t even turn off the lights or get under the covers yet.
Pantalone couldn’t help but smile softly. You two had a long day, anyway. He quietly finished his preparations for bed, changed into comfortable nightwear, and stepped closer to your side. With a delicate touch, he made sure you were tucked in properly, giving you the usual good night kiss on the forehead and tucking your hair away from your face. The man dimmed the lights before he two took his rightful place in bed beside you.
Whatever quarrels troubled his mind now - didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had your comforting presence beside him in bed. As he slowly spooned your sleeping figure, Pantalone let out a sigh of relief, letting his head rest by the crook of your nape. Only then, did the Regrator feel his body go into ease, feeling the tranquil silence settle upon the room. Thus, the two of you slept warmly; Something that Pantalone would never trade for any riches or gold.
✧ Ah yes, Tartaglia, his sweetheart, and their 50,000 Mora five-foot tall Morax plushie. Childe remained lying on his back, his expression far from pleased. Ever since he returned from his mission in Liyue, he gifted you this massive dragon plushie. A plushie that became his mortal enemy. His tormentor. His replacer.
The 11th frequently brought souvenirs back home in Snezhnaya. Liyuan tea sets, Inazuman dresses, or Fontainian gadgets. All for your spoiling, and the joyous smiles from his siblings. One of such missions, he returned home with several cute toys and plushies, just for you and Teucer. He is not beating the “Greatest Toy Seller” allegation anytime soon, but he was certain that the gigantic Morax would be a lovely choice for you.
How naive he was.
The plushie was almost your entire height, yet you held onto it with utter delight when he gave it to you. You hugged and squeezed it with love, finding the fluffy geo archon the cutest thing ever. And thus, here you were. In bed, not hugging your boyfriend, but hugging the massive Morax plushie.
It became a common occurrence. At first, Childe chuckled at your adorable antics whenever you brought his gift with you in bed. But then it became more apparent that you would rather turn your back to him, and just fall asleep while embracing the plushie. Childe swallowed his pride. It’s just a plushie, he bargained with himself. But then he would stare daggers that that innocent, fluffy-looking Morax. How dare it be the one receiving your love, while you adorably squeezed or fell asleep on it.
It should’ve been him!
Therefore, one night, he took matters into his own hands. Tartaglia sat up silently in bed, and by mustering all his skills in stealth, he sneakily pulled the Morax plushie away from your grasp while you slept soundly. He was slow, and careful so as not to wake you up; and boy, tugging that five-foot plush was no easy task. Once it was away from your arms, Childe grinned in triumph… and threw the toy aside. The enemy has been neutralized.
Next step - carefully pulling you closer to him. You were already in deep sleep, so of course, you didn’t feel when your beloved naturally embraced you in bed. Shh, no one will know he was jealous of a silly toy. He was just a concerned boyfriend, who needed to bury his face onto the crown of your head and relish your warmth.
The next morning, you woke up feeling warm and pressed to your dear Ajax, who was particularly cuddly that morning.
“Oh no, how did my Morax plushie fall to the floor?”
“Hm? Oh, you must’ve accidentally tossed it away while you slept, dear.”
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#gender neutral reader#pierro x reader#capitano x reader#dottore x reader#il dottore x reader#dottore x reader fluff#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x reader#pantalone x reader#pantalone x you#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#fatui harbingers#genshin impact headcanons#fluff#genshin headcanons#genshin pierro#il dottore#capitano#pantalone#genshin scaramouche#childe tartaglia ajax#genshin fanfic
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✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU — you always liked taking your boyfriend dress shopping with you, maybe it’s because he always gave all of your options a fair chance.
ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, bf!geto, public / fitting room / mirror scenes, my questionable characterisation (it’s been a while guys please spare me!) ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hii! another lil jjk thirst for now, im gonna be working on some more genshin also + a lil nagi post cos ofc it’s me <3
“do you like this one?”
you ask as you brush down the hem of the dress around your hips, meeting the dark, sharp gaze as it’s owner breathes out a low whistle before readjusting himself to sink deeper into his seat with a whisper of a grin.
“mhm, looks real good, pretty girl.”
you don’t know how long you’ve been in this store’s fitting room, but your boyfriend geto looks comfortable as he leans back in the sofa. his thighs are spread and one of his arms thrown haphazardly along the back space behind him as he hums.
anyone else would’ve probably complained by now but he looks content with dragging his gaze along your figure, tracing along the fabric that falls across your body so perfectly that he can’t help but want to peel it back, like he’s following a map to something greater.
“look at you.” geto’s words are like honey with the soft sort of drawl his voice takes with you, accompanied by the smooth twist of his neck as he urges you to do a pretty little spin for him — one that you do so easily as you giggle.
“sugu. you’ve liked all of them.” you feign annoyance, turning back to face him as you rest one of your hands on your hip, earning you a raised brow from your boyfriend before he’s shrugging his shoulders and pushing himself to stand.
you almost roll your eyes with the way geto stretches his arms over his head, deliberately as he watches the way you struggle not to watch the way every muscle seems to twitch as he moves. you pout your lips, and that urges him to take a few long strides towards you before his hands are on your hips.
it’s intimate, gentle, the way he holds you — looking down at you with a slow hum like he’s really thinking your choices over in his head. “have i? maybe it’s the model.” he eventually answers, accompanying it with a quick peck along the exposed skin of your shoulder as he leans over you.
“we need to pick one for the party.” you try again,
“mhm.” but geto’s barely listening, much too enthralled with busying himself in the crook of your neck, suckling and pressing his lips along your collarbones — hands squeezing and kneading at your hips and waist before they trace along the hem of the dress.
he steps into you, urging you back into the fitting room you just pushed yourself out of, like it was built for two and you’d have maybe put up more of a fight if he wasn’t so intoxicating. “how am i supposed to choose.,” you feel dazed with every wet press of his lips on your skin as he speaks, low hum of his voice making the nerves under your skin sing as you press your fingertips into his biceps, trembling with need.
“i’m serious, sugu—“ your words are a mere whisper, you can barely trust your own voice before he’s turning you to face the floor length mirror infront of you both. he allows you a shakey breath before he’s back over you, chest pressed against your back as one of his hands take your chin between his fingers, urging you to make eye contact with him in your reflection this time.
“i mean, see how pretty it looks.” geto’s words are honest, unwavering despite the weight of arousal that hangs in the small room and the press of his clothed cock against your lower back. both of you are only hidden behind the flimsy curtain, there’s not a lot of space in here but it only seems to push you both closer — like you’re hoping you could melt into him entirely.
“had to see it up close for a better opinion.” he grits, jaw tensing as his fingertips swipe experimentally between your thighs — the push of his wrist pulling at the hem of the dress until your panties are just visible in the mirror.
“suguru..” you try, gasp with the way your legs suddenly feel unsteady, readjusting yourself against geto’s chest despite the way you know he’s got you anyway. you can feel his hair trace along your skin as he curls over you, leaning over your shoulder to smear a kiss across your cheek before he’s meeting your gaze infront of you again, urging you to step your legs apart ever so slightly with his fingers.
“hm? i’m just making sure my girl will be comfortable for the party.”
it catches you off guard the way you feel his clothed cock push up against your panties, expertly until you’re so comfortable in him you could melt — letting his strong hold steady you as his free palm squeezes at your tits through the neck of your dress.
you swear you can feel geto throb against you, despite the layers separating you both — you can still feel the outline of his blunt tip, deliberately pushing into your swollen clit as he breathes deep into your skin. you rock into him, like there’s not a whole store of people through the thin curtain separating you both, like you’re the only people in the whole mall before you feel the vibration of his tone drip through you once more, but his sharp eyes remain on yours in the mirror.
“think you’ll have to try them all on again after this.. so they all have a fair chance, pretty girl.”
© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#geto x you#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru smut
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Quickies with the MHA Boys!
Everyone involved in this work of fiction is 18+/aged up — if that bothers you block me or scroll on.
Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki
How the MHA Boys Eat You Out Link. Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima
How they eat you out. Shinsou & Kaminari
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Bakugou Katsuki
Katsuki doesn’t mind quickies per se. He just has to be in the right mood for it. He’d much rather take his sweet time. Not wanting to rush, being able to relax afterwards — otherwise he’d rather just not have sex at all.
But there are times when he’s frustrated. When your schedules haven’t lined up, when you haven’t had sex in weeks — he gets pent up.
Katsuki’s the kind of guy who will lounge on your bed in just his tight black boxer briefs. Arms folded behind his head as he lazily waits for you to get out of the shower.
He knows it gives you a view that you’re unable to resist of his unreasonably slim waist and toned arms — as the position allows his biceps to flex involuntarily.
And of course, he’s completely aware that you have to leave for work in less than 20 minutes. He just doesn’t give a single shit.
He’s been dreaming about your warm pussy sucking in his cock in all night and there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go until he fucks you silly.
Tilting his head, he leers at your naked body as you drop your towel onto the bed. He urges you in a low, rasping voice to “come here baby,” sporting a wolfish grin.
You already know what he wants. It makes your stomach burn pleasantly with arousal.
“Five minutes Katsuki, I’m serious.” You shoot him a pointed glare. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“As if I won’t have you cumming in less than two minutes.” The grin he levels you with is sharp around the edges.
Although, the man’s right to be confident.
Katsuki will push you onto the bed, cock already stiff and thick when he wiggles between your legs, yanking his briefs down to mid thigh.
You’re turned on enough that he slides in with relative ease, even if it burns a little, because let’s be real — he’s so hot you would take him any time, any place.
Katsuki will tug one of your legs up, hooking it over his shoulder. He’ll bend you in half and circle his fingers around your throat, applying pressure that’s just right.
With precision, he wholly makes this quickie worth it. Katsuki has your toes curling, cheeks flushed. Choking on your own moans as you cum.
He does exceptionally well with the time limit, pulling out and cumming all over your belly with a groan that leaks out between gritted teeth.
Almost exactly five minutes on the dot.
————————————————————————
Kirishima Eijirou
Eijirou has the spirit of a happy, care free, lovesick golden retriever. So naturally, he loves physical touch.
He’s addicted to constantly being in your space. Hugging you, holding your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap, kissing you.
And if we’re being honest, whenever he gets the chance, he’ll be inside you too. Stretching you out. Making you feel so good it melts your brain — if only because it makes him feel twice the amount of pleasure to you see come undone.
Needless to say, Eijirou enjoys quickies a fuck ton. He also is the sort of guy who gets literal heart eyes whenever you initiate one with him.
He’ll be relaxing on the couch, lost in some sort of video game when you snatch the controller out of his hands and place it out of his reach.
Eijirou sputters, glancing up at you in surprise. His startled expression turns to one of knowing when you straddle his lap. Your sundress bunching up and exposing the soft skin of your inner thighs in the process.
“I’ve got 10 minutes until I leave for my appointment. Wanna have sex Ei?” You ask teasingly, a coy smile playing on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently trailing your fingers up the nape of his neck.
You swear if Eijirou had a tail it would be wagging. He moans low in his throat. Your light touch and filthy words are all it takes to get him hard, stiff cock pressing eagerly into your thigh.
“How could I ever say no to you gorgeous?” He beams at you with his sharp teeth, resting his hands your hips. You snicker, raising up a little so he can slid his shorts down enough to free himself — just under his balls.
He sneaks your panties to the side, rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, trying to hold in a whine.
He has mercy on you, gripping his shaft and parting your pussy with his cock until his head catches. You ease yourself down onto him until you’re fully seated in his lap.
You both simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief.
After that, he lets you ride him until you’re sweaty and satiated. He praises you sweetly, holding your waist with a tight grip and helping you bounce.
“That’s it baby, take what you need. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Love it when you cum for me,” he coos, voice tender and adoring.
It’s effortless to cum like that, face buried in his shoulder while you rock back and forth in his lap. Letting him hug you tightly to his chest.
Once you come back down to earth, you check for the time, noticing you’ve only got two minutes left.
You taunt Eijirou with the time limit, telling him it’s his turn to cum before he has to take care of himself.
He chases his own pleasure desperately. Kissing you to keep himself from biting marks into your neck.
You’re only running a couple minutes late when you go, leaving Eijirou a sticky, gooey mess on the couch.
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Todoroki Shouto
Shouto, he’s, well — a mix of the two really. He enjoys taking his time, but he also cannot keep himself out of your bubble.
One of Shouto’s absolute favorite past times is cuddling with you.
The coziness of your body, the way you fit like a missing puzzle piece into his chest. The tender kisses he can trail across your neck and the ones you give him in return.
That’s why Shouto takes immense pleasure in those honey like, sweet and warm, limbs riddled with sleep morning quickies.
He can’t resist the temptation.
You’ll hear Shouto’s piercing alarm go off in the morning, jostling you from your dreams. The sheets rustle as Shouto maneuvers to turn off his alarm.
Your lids are droopy, and your limbs lag by a couple seconds when you turn over to cling to him.
You sprawl out half way on top of his chest and you slip your arms around his neck, nuzzling his shoulder.
“Sho,” you mumble in his ear, voice rasp and faint. He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.
“Mm?” The noise he makes rumbles in his chest
“I want you before you go, please,” you plead softly, kissing along his jawline. He squeezes you tighter briefly, responding without a trace of hesitation.
“Turn over baby, I’ll have to make it quick.”
So, you shift around until you’re on your side. Back facing Shouto as he scoots in close, wiggling down until his forehead rests at the back of your neck.
He shoves the large T-shirt you’re wearing up to your ribs. Smoothing his hand over your bare ass and squeezing until your breath hitches in your throat. Shouto smacks your ass playfully.
Automatically you lift your thigh and Shouto grips underneath it to keep it in that position, shifting his legs until he’s got the right angle.
The silky, warm skin of his full cock slides along your pussy and you jolt. He must’ve got rid of his briefs at some point.
Shouto shift his hips, pressing the head of his cock to your pussy, rocking his hips unhurriedly until he’s sliding in and out completely with each thrust.
You’re already crying out his name, gripping the sheets.
“Is this what you needed Angel?” Shouto pants hotly against your neck. “Your pussy feels so good,” he moans, tone pushing into a whine.
You can’t speak, still halfway asleep as Shouto takes you with slow and deliberate thrusts.
He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot as your climax builds gradually. It’s like a faucet sluggishly dripping warm water into a cup until it fills to the brim and overflows through your veins.
It doesn’t take long for Shouto to cum after your pussy clenches around him like a vice.
He presses in until his balls are flush against your skin. Biting into the back of your shoulder blade with a high pitched moan. That will definitely leave a mark.
“I love you,” Shouto murmurs, planting a kiss to your cheek after he helps you get clean enough to fall back asleep.
You’re out like a light before you hear the door shut, hoping Shouto makes it to the agency on time.
#bakugou smut#bakugou x reader#kirishima x reader#todoroki x reader#kirishima smut#shoto smut#todoroki smut#bakugou katsuki x reader#todoroki shoto smut#kirishima eijirou x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#kirishima eijirou smut#bakugou katsuki smut#mha smut
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